Cigarettes, Snow, and Unanswered Questions
by LilBriarRoseMasochist
Summary: Kristen smokes a "ciggie" and thinks over her relationship with Rob while she is at Sundance Film Festival. One-shot, K/R, all human, Rated "T" for internal conflict and difficult thoughts as well as semi-adult content cigarettes
1. hiding

I sat on the ground, well squatted really, at the Sundance Film Festival. You could say I was hiding. In the parking lot. How lame can you get? Really now, you would probably think that someone as "smart" as I am would have more imagination, but apparently not. Last night, I had gotten reamed out by my manager for buying a pack of cigarettes. I still didn't know why I had even bought the dang things, but here I was sitting on the ground, smoking.

If I were actually going to be honest with myself, I probably would say that I missed Rob. But that was just ridiculous, or that was -- at least -- what I kept telling myself. I just wanted to try it out. I wouldn't get past that part of the explanation in my head. Whenever I tried, a certain pair of clear gray eyes like winter storm clouds floated into my head like their heavenly counterparts and refused to budge.

I had a lot of questions, but they mostly boiled down to one thing: Robert Pattinson. Ever since he had walked into the audition room in Catherine's house, he had been a tantalizing reminder of the relationship that I didn't have, and at this rate, probably would never have. The adult sort of relationship that everyone dreams of. Their perfect man coming to sweep them away, with just that little edge of danger, the daring of their love. Rob certainly had that one down, the danger bit anyway. He smelled like mints, and cigarettes, even though most people found that sort of smell disgusting, it was almost sexy the way he wore it. He walked into a room and quietly commanded the attention of everyone in it. He was a leader by example, not force. I took a long drag of the cigarette I was holding and relished in the smoky smell of it. How much I had been missing. _Ah Rob…._ No! I had told myself I wouldn't go there! I had predetermined that I wouldn't think about him that way. We were costars. That was it.

One was, why did I have the guitar (_very expensive guitar_) that he had gotten me for my birthday _carefully_ packed into the back of the car I had arrived here in? Was it really because I "wished to practice my music, and that's the only guitar I have, thank you very much" as I had told everyone else? I couldn't honestly answer "yes" to that. Whenever I had said that I was "thinking about music" I was really just sitting there with the guitar on my lap, feeling the tears well up in my eyes, wishing for Rob to hug me. I blew out the smoky breath that I had been holding in and looked around me again. The great Kristen, hiding behind a Honda.

And I guess, if I searched my soul long enough, I could find what it boiled down to. Truly. And why not now? Here I was, sitting miserable, on the ground, next to a dirty-ish pile of snow, and I still didn't have an answer to "the most basic question" as Edward would say. Although in my case, it wasn't what I fed my body. It was what I fed my soul. What my soul had was clearly enough in the material sense of the words that formed the question. I had a family, I had money, I had a job I loved, and I had 'love.' But was it the love that was the love of adults, dangerous, sexy, and daring? Or was it the petty love of teenagers, unremarkable, natural, and predictable in every way? I still couldn't tell, but if I were to truly search my soul, I would answer; people might not like my answer, but I would answer. That answer would be…. Did I really want to know? Or was it just to decide the course of my life? Could both of those be correct? I was confused. I took another drag on the cigarette and quickly exhaled. Rob would have called them "ciggies." That thought made me laugh a little bit.

But, I suppose I've been avoiding the question. What I had was the "petty love of teenagers." What I wanted was so different, so far from that. I couldn't even think of Michael and Robert in the same class as each other. It was truly unimaginable.

So, as I sat on the ground of the parking lot and Sundance, I finally decided that I wanted Rob. Pure and simple. That didn't mean I could get him. But I finally came to terms with what my body was trying to tell me: I wanted him.


	2. listening

**A/N: I wrote this chapter a little differently on purpose, because I wanted Rob's POV to be very different from Kristen's. When I heard this song, I didn't immediately think, "OHMYGOD! Rob/Kristen song!" but then I started listening more closely and I twisted the lyrics a bit and I almost started crying because it sounded so much like a Rob/Kristen thing! Honest. It was really sad and then I emailed one of my friends and she saw the light too, so I decided to write about it. Lolz. Anyway, enjoy! The next chapter after this one will be the one where Kristen confronts Rob.**

As I listened to my iPod, I smiled and got a water from the refrigerator. It was early afternoon and the shuffle setting was a great way to start the 'day'!

_I wake up every evening with a big smile on my face…. And it never feels out of place…_

I certainly did wake up in the evening. Only because I partied all night with my friends and then crashed for the majority of the morning and afternoon. The All American Rejects certainly had my lifestyle down. The smile did feel out of place, though. It was as fake as the rest of my "happiness" at the moment. Kristen was probably still pissed at me and even if she wasn't, she was all the way across the ocean, which did me no good in the "finding out if she really is pissed" department. I hadn't bothered to get numbers of people on set besides Kris and Catherine, but as the latter was no longer on 'production' calling her would do me no good now.

_When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell. When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell._

Kris was giving me hell. Not talking. The fight in Berlin that neither of us had a solution for, and then her leaving as soon as the promotions were done. Bolting out of the room, and jetting off on the next flight. I didn't want to give her hell, but I was in hell, burning… she just didn't understand, couldn't feel the pain. I slammed down the bottle of water and stared out the window. She probably never would walk my way again, save from in a movie. She never would be my lover, I would never hold her, save from in a movie. The one girl I had actually loved. I swept my hand across the table in a rage and the water bottle fell to the floor, the thin plastic not making much noise, thus depriving me of any satisfaction that a crash would have provided.  
_Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell._

Gives you hell indeed. One of us was giving, one was receiving. Who was doing what? That was the bloody mystery. I certainly wasn't doing much, sitting here, waiting for something to happen. Getting pissed drunk every night and not giving a shit. She seemed fine, happy even, smoking her "ciggie." I wanted to shout across the waters separating us that she shouldn't smoke, that it was bad for her lungs, that she was killing herself. But I couldn't, not just because of the water, but because that would make me a hypocrite and I knew that she despised hypocrites more than almost anything else. How lame was it to be subjecting yourself to the imaginary judgment of someone who doesn't even care about you? Someone who clearly doesn't care about you, doesn't give a crap!

_Where's your picket fence, love? And where's that shiny car….. and did it ever get you far?_

Where was the fence separating us now? Did the ocean qualify, or was it that wall that her 'love' for her 'boyfriend' had built between us. Why did I care? Truly, she had bolted, running from the room before goodbye's were possible. What did she think would have happened? Did she think I would have tried to do something to her? Really?! Or was it just that she wanted space, space to think, space to be apart. She did have a shiny car. I could see that from the photos that were taken in the parking lot of Sundance, along with that ciggie. Her shiny silver Honda. It didn't ever get her far, it really didn't get her far! I could still see her, the fans could see her, the damn paparazzi could see her. What was she hiding from?

_I've never seen you so tense, love. _Poor Kris. She was still a baby compared to the rest of the cast. Even Taylor was big enough to handle himself in a crowd and not get pushed over. I remembered the feeling of Kristen hanging on to me at various premieres, specifically America and England. She felt so fragile. _Never seen you fall so hard. _Damn straight she fell hard. She had always said that smoking was strange and not a "becoming" habit of mine. And yet, there she was with a damn cigarette of her own! _Do you even know where you are?_ Did she? Or was her body there, without her mind. She looked deep in thought at the time those pictures were taken. I couldn't miss this girl that I wasn't even supposed to love, to like, to yearn after.

_Truth be told, I miss you. And truth be told, I'm lyin'!_ I wasn't lying like the people in the song, but call my life a lie, and you hit the nail on the head. I didn't even have a defense for myself about that one. Look at me now, sitting in the kitchen of my house, thinking about this girl who I barely even knew, if I were to be honest with myself.

_Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!_ I wanted to sort my life out, not give her hell. Giving Kris hell was the last thing on my mind. This song was pretty much speaking to every aspect of my life and I could do nothing to contradict it. Listening was like waging a war with your own mind, and losing.

_Hope you find a man that's worth a damn and he treats you well…. Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell…._

Wow. I was still stuck here. In this same old rut, and I was supposed to be getting ready for my flight to America, for the Oscars on Sunday. I didn't have a date, but I wished more than anything to take Kris with me, down that long red carpet, paved with reporters and the legacies of other stars. I knew that would never happen, but I still hadn't asked anyone to be my date. I was considering Nikki, but I knew she'd do anything, she was practically my best friend. Oh well. I left for America in two hours, I would talk to Kris when I got there.

As I shut off my iPod and headed out the door, I contemplated the whole 'twilight' gig, all the people, all the places we went. I didn't even really remember. I just remembered one person. Kristen Stewart. A shy girl of seventeen, almost eighteen, with brown hair and deep green eyes that always seemed to have a secret. Then she matured even more and I only grew to love the grown-up girl more deeply than I had the girl I met months before filming had started.

As I boarded the red-eye to America, I closed my eyes and even though I thought of other things, Kristen came, unbidden into my mind's eye. And there she settled, smiling and happy, while I slept. As I fell into sleep, I resolved to see and talk to her in the next twenty-four hours. I would do that much, I promised myself.

**A/N: hope you liked it! Don't forget to review, review, review, review! I'll get the next chapter up really soon. As in, as soon as I finish typing it. Which should be in the next few minutes!!!! Yay!!!!!!**


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